Separation Anxiety
by Mustardlover16
Summary: Two years after Emily joins the BAU, she must reveal the real reason she joined the team: her unplanned daughter was kidnapped and Prentiss' only chance to get her daughter back is the BAU's resources and team members. But will they be able to help Emily find her daughter? And if they do, will two years separation be too much to reunite mother and daughter? Rated for language.
1. Chapter 1

There is a reason I was so dogged about getting this job. Why I paced back and forth in my apartment the four days after I first met Hotch. Why I had one of my contacts at the FBI alert me when the BAU was on their way back. Why I waited for hours in Hotch's office, convinced him to let me stay.

There's a reason I tried so hard to prove myself to the team. Why I jumped at every opportunity to show off my skills. Why I did everything I could to make myself look valuable, like an asset.

There's a reason I didn't connect with the team immediately. There's a reason Gideon thought I didn't feel part of the team, part of the family.

There's a reason.

The reason is that I had to be part of the team. I had no choice in the matter. Not really. I had to be on the team. For her.

I had to be on the team so I could find her.

Amy. My daughter. She was 21 months when it happened. Almost 2. She was precious. Mine.

The minute I found out I was pregnant I knew what she was. A liability. The FBI, Interpol, they give out a lot of awards to their agents. "Mother of the year" isn't one of them. Law enforcement doesn't exactly lend itself to parenthood. Not when you can be called across the country-across the world for that matter- at anytime, day or night. Not when it is your civic responsibility, your sworn duty to put others first.

I knew that. And it's not like her father stuck around to help, either. We'd been dating a few months. Nothing too serious. Mainly he was how I congratulated myself for collaring an international drug smuggler who spent his free time beating his girlfriends. Got back home after a long stint in Europe, found myself an attractive, single guy in a bar and let my guard down.

Stupid. I knew better. I did. But hey, live a little, right? That's what they say. "Ah, you work too hard, Prentiss." "Loosen up a bit, Emily." "You deserve to have a little fun. Put down your cape and tights and live a little, Em."

Well, the jackass got the hell out of dodge when he found out the big deal that comes from a little, blue plus.

All the better. He would have been a terrible dad. So, I made the decision. Kept my liability. I went dark, asked for a sabbatical of sorts and got off the radar. It wasn't easy to pull my when your mom is a former ambassador, you find that people are much more willing to pull the strings, look the other way. I hated using my mother's status to benefit myself. I did. But it was necessary.

Eight months after I found out, my liability was 7 pounds two ounces with a shock of black hair and the most darling green eyes you'd ever seen.

And then 21 months later, she was gone. I left her with the nanny (whose background check I performed personally, one can never be too careful) as I usually did, headed to the NYC field office for the FBI. Nothing out of the ordinary. The day was bland. I didn't have any worries, suspicions. It was a normal day. A boring day. I filed the the crap-ton of paperwork that comes with a officer related shooting, which I had executed the day before. I wasn't worried though. It was a good shot, justified. But that didn't excuse me from the paperwork, so I was chained to the desk.

I got home around 6 (early for me) and that's when I knew. Something was wrong. There was no crying. No babbling. No giggling or mumbling or cooing. I unlocked the door, one hand reaching for my service weapon. Which I didn't have, because it had been bagged as evidence. Because of the damn gangster who had decided to take a shot at me the day before.

All that was left was the quivering nanny, Melissa who was quaking and crying. Amy hadn't been taken but seconds before I had gotten home. Melissa hadn't even had a chance to call. In between gasps and sobs she managed to tell me that she had found the window of Amy's room open. Amy gone. A note in the little bed.

No cops, no feds, no funny business. I'll know.

Catch me if you can.

Ever since then I have received an email every month with a proof of life video. Each is only 30 seconds long.

For two years I have watched my daughter grow up on 30 second sound bites. 102 clips. Not even an hour of footage.

For two years I have spent my free time trying to backtrack emails from dummy accounts, bribing CSI techs to test and retest anything I think I can get them to check without asking too many questions, intimidating possible witnesses, searching for my daughter. For two years, I have hid this secret from the team that became my family.

Two years too much.

 **A/N: So this idea was given to me by red lighting. I really like where this is going, so strap in for the ride, folks! As always, comments and reviews are LIFE.**


	2. Chapter 2

When I joined the team I never expected to like them. To be friends with them. I never expected to have movie nights with Spencer or girls nights out with Jennifer and Garcia. Didn't think I'd go to the range with Derek or go to Rossi's for dinner. I didn't even imagine doing paperwork in silent companionship with Hotch.

In a way I'm sort of glad I never imagined how close I'd become with them. It made the experience so much better. Not a day goes by where I wonder how I made it through the day. I know how I survived. It was the same way the rest of the team survive every hellish situation the worst of humanity has to offer the BAU: each other. Family.

I won't say the filled the hole in my heart left from Amy. They couldn't. No one could. No, they just created their own room, numbed the pain a little. Made it easier to bare.

I should have told them a long time ago. I know I should have. There have been so many damned days I considered telling them. So many plane rides. I should have told. But she's my daughter.

 _My_ daughter. _My_ responsibility. _Mine_.

I could never be sure the bastard that took her wasn't tracking me, either. Who knew if he was listening in on my phone calls, reading my emails? The guy got in and out my apartment without leaving a trace. _My_ apartment. If he hadn't done it, I would have thought it impossible. To quote the dynamic duo of Derek and Garcia, "Prentiss, you're a little paranoid." "A little?" They both laughed it off with me after, but the truth is, they're right. I am paranoid.

Which means this unsub is good. Scary good. Calculating, highly intelligent. Patient- the guy has been playing his sick game for two years without flinching. Not motivated by money- he's never asked for ransom. He gets off on control, power. He likes screwing with people's heads, driving them crazy slowly.

Translation: he's an asshole. A dead asshole when I finally nail him.

The night I decided to tell my team was a bad one. Long day chasing some low life who made a game of slicing up kids and sending videos to the parents. Dirtbag killed four kids before we stopped him. It was a taxing case for all of us. The plane ride back from Wyoming was a long one. None of us talked, each of us silently trying to wrap our minds around what happened. Or trying to erase what happened. Either way, no one talked much. No one was in the mood for chess or cards. Spencer didn't even have the energy to read. We just sat, our heads hanging or resting on our fists, gazes blank, unfocused. Kid cases are the worst. Especially for Hotch and me, since we have our own. Not that the team knows about mine.

We trudged through the office, said muted goodbyes and agreed to come in a little later than usual. After all, it was already one in the morning and none of us had slept much in the 5 days we were away for the case.

The case weighed so heavily on my mind that I almost forgot it was Thursday. The day he always sent his proof of life video. I called out to Sergio, shut the door to my apartment and had made it halfway through undressing on the way to the bedroom when I remembered. Hastily buttoning one button near the middle of my shirt I ran to grab my laptop from my lock box (yes, I lock up my personal laptop. I told you already. I'm paranoid.).

My fingers shook as I punched in the nine digit code (super paranoid). I was angry with myself and scared that I could have forgotten. Had almost forgotten. How the hell could I have forgotten? Mentally cursing myself out, I opened the laptop, started it up, and whipped through the login requirement.

My inbox was bursting but only one email had been flagged and tagged to alert me, by my own doing. I opened it only to let out a sharp gasp. There was no video. No video. Eyes darting back up to the to address and subject line. Same email address, a no reply account from some company that didn't exist and whose IP address always bounced. Same subject: "Catch me."

Same everything. Except this time there was no proof of life video. Only three words.

 _I'm done playing._

 **A/N: hey guys! Sorry my chapters are so short. I really want to bring this story to completion but I'm so busy with my classes that 800-900 words is about all I can manage in the 30 minutes I get here and there.**

 **As always, tell me what you think! Love you all!**


	3. Chapter 3

I took the very small liberty of showering (at an alarming speed) and changing out of the clothes I had been wearing before I ran two blocks to the shady convenience store I scoped out the minute I put in the papers to rent my apartment. I let out one calming breath before getting up the nerve to buy a (highly illegal) burner phone from the guy behind the counter. He didn't give me a second glance when I asked, just forked it over and barked that the total would be $30. I didn't even bat an eyelash. Just handed over the bills and sprinted for the street.

I took a cab to one of the lower income parts of town, sat myself on a bench at one of the community center parks and dialed each of my teammates one by one. I gave all of them the same message, "I'm in trouble. I can't explain it over the phone but I need your help. Please. I'm sorry to be so cryptic but I need your help. Meet me on the north side of the Brown Memorial park. Make sure you're not tailed."

Each one gave me varying versions of the same response, "I'll be there as soon as I can." "Don't worry Emily, I'm on my way." "Whatever it is, hang on. I'm coming." "Honey, I've got your back." "Coming." "Hold tight. I'm almost there, Prentiss."

I didn't have to wait long. Just as I knew they would, they all arrived within minutes of each other, all screeching to a halt (or, in Reid's case, hauling butt from the nearest subway station) upon their arrival. One thing about the BAU: they're efficient. Always ready to go, always prepared, always ready with a go bag. Hotch, whose house was the farthest away, was the last to arrive. When he did it was to the noise of all my friends clambering to get information from me, worriedly asking what the matter was, what was going on.

I saw no point in answering until Hotch arrived, besides quietly acknowledging that yes, yes, I was fine, I wasn't hurt. I didn't want to have to repeat myself. It was already going to be hard enough.

Hotch jumped out of his company issued car, yanking the keys out of the ignition. He hadn't even bothered buckling up. Though we weren't at the office, the minute he opened his mouth to question me, the rest of the team settled to allow him.

"Prentiss. What the hell is going on here?"

This was it. This would be the moment I would finally gain some purchase and have a fighting chance to get my baby back. Terrifying and liberating all at once, I dragged my hands down my face, then brought them to fists at my side.

"Guys, this...This is going to be hard to explain. It's not going to make a lot of sense and, if I'm being frank with you… It's probably going to piss you off."

"Why don't you let us decide that for ourselves, Prentiss. Come on. It's us. How bad could it be?" Derek Morgan's sympathetic, uber optimism (while appreciated) was crippling. And total B.S. They were going to flip once they learned what I had been keeping from them. Lying to them for two years, that was going to set us back, I knew it. The most important aspect of our team was trust. And they were about to learn that I had been constantly, repeatedly lying to them since the day they met me. Since they day they took me in as one of their own. This would not be an easy thing to reconcile, if it could be at all.

I'm pathetic. This is my daughter. I'm beating around the bush, wasting time worrying if my friends will be mad when my daughter's life is at stake here. Has been for two years. That tears it.

"Look, I'm going to tell you. I need all of you to sit through what I tell you without talking. Don't ask questions, don't accuse, don't interrupt. Just listen." She saw each of her team nod, puzzled but agreeable. They would listen. "I have a daughter. She's almost four. You don't know the guy. It was an ill advised relationship, but I… She's not on my personal records because I kept her quiet. In our line of work, you know how it is. Anyway, about a month before I joined the team I came home to find she'd been taken. Guy was good, didn't leave a trace-nothing. No prints, no DNA, no video on any of the near by cameras, didn't trigger any of my alarms. All he left was a note."

At this I pulled the very note out of my pocket, from where I'd stashed after reading the email. The paper was a little more worn than when I had gotten it, from being folded and unfolded, read and reread. Hotch took the note from me with pursed lips. He read but said nothing. The only hint of a reaction was his brow settling lower over his eyes, an angry almost menacing glare. He passed the note to Garcia who gasped and passed it to Morgan. As Morgan and Spencer read together (Reid peering over Derek's shoulder) I could see their eyes grow darker, get fiercer. JJ was the last to read. Her eyes blazed. "What the hell did you wait two years to tell us this for, Emily? Waiting to see if we were trustworthy?"

I couldn't look her in the eye, though her intense gaze followed mine everywhere. "I joined the team so I could have access to the resources that are available to you, the contacts. I have a few friends in the FBI, knew I could cash in few favors. I was supposed to join, catch the son of a bitch, get my daughter back and go back to living my life. I wasn't supposed to-"

"To what?" JJ barked, blonde hair flying back in the bitter North wind. "To constantly lie for two years to the people who have always had your back? To mislead the people who took you into their lives, their homes, their families?"

"JJ, I don't know what you want me to say." My stomach was knotting and bile rose in the back of my throat. First my daughter, next the closest thing I have to a sister. Worry and fear and anger swirled around inside my head and cut off my air. If I couldn't get Amy back and I didn't have the team to cope, I'd be lost. I'd have no one. I will have burned all my bridges for nothing.

"For the love of God, Prentiss, what were you thinking? What-" JJ began to round on me again, but Hotch intervened.

"As upsetting as this is, JJ, I think we have more pressing issues. The life of a little girl is at stake here. You're upset, that's fine. Be upset later. We," Hotch gestures to the others, tucking the note in his inside coat pocket, "Have a case."

 **A/N: Woo! Another day, another chapter. Tell me what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

Hotch lead the way back to the BSU office in his big, black, FBI issued Suburban. He hadn't thrown on the lights and sirens, but as I watched him step up into the SUV, I saw him consider it. Reid hitched a ride with Morgan who was directly behind me in our caravan of cars. It was going on four in the morning so the streets were fairly free of traffic, which made our trip to the office quick.

We parked side by side in the underground parking garage attached to our building, rode the elevator to the entrance of the building then strode past our bullpen into the conference room in which we usually held our pre-case briefings. We gathered in around the table but nobody sat, nor did they stand as near to me as they normally would have. It was an isolating sort of feeling and the room was ripe with tension and confusion. Reid and Garcia stood close together, shuffling their feet, staring and the floor. Derek stood erect, hands in pockets. He stared straight at me, but not in a hostile way. His eyes sent a distinctive message of solidarity and sympathy, which I greatly appreciated. JJ refused to look at me, arms crossed and lips pursed.

Hotch entered, shut the door and motioned for us to have a seat. Seconds after the sound of chairs dragging on carpet and general settling in, Reid looked up, glanced back and forth between me and Hotch, who was directly to my left and still standing. Reid licked his lips nervously, fingers interlaced as his hands rested on the table. "What's the plan?"

At this, Hotch looked to me, as did the rest of the team.

"I already had some CSU buddies do an extra thorough sweep of my place the minute I found out. Nobody could find anything in her room or the rest of my apartment. Nothing on the note, either." Reid nodded, as if encouraging me to continue. "I was able to convince some cops from the 12th precinct to let me look through the footage of surveillance cameras in the area, but they were either scrubbed or the unsub had some other way of avoiding cameras. None of my alarms were triggered." I shrugged.

"Emily…" Reid's voice was soft and low, "Why didn't you tell us? In the beginning we were strangers but now we're…" His voice tapered off, strangled by the lump in his throat.

"We're family." Derek supplied quietly for Reid, who nodded mutely.

"He said no cops, no feds. I couldn't be sure he wasn't tracking my movements, recording everything I did. I just wanted her to be safe." I sighed, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

"Why tell us now?" Jennifer accused.

"I got an email. The message scared me. He's done waiting, I guess, I don't know. He just said, 'I'm done playing.' Well, so am I. This need to end. I need to get my baby back." At this point it was a struggle just to breathe, let alone hold back tears. I shook my head, took a deep breath and pinched my leg underneath the table, willing myself to suck it up and be strong. Garcia took mercy on me first.

"What's her name?" Garcia asked, her wide eyes teary too.

"Amy." I replied with a watery smile.

"That's a good name." Garcia smiled, as did Derek and Reid. They were struggling with my lying to them for so long, but they were still trying and they still wanted to help me. That was what set this team apart from any other I had worked on previously. _"We're family."_

Hotch, always on track, steered the conversation back into his control, back into information gathering. "Emily, I hate to ask this but...what makes you think your daughter is alive after two years?"

"I get emails with these short little videos. Proof of life videos. She'll be playing with a toy or eating or taking a nap. No one is ever in the videos with her, there are no windows that can be seen on the tapes, no audio. Nothing that would indicate where she was held." I say, preempting Hotch with the answers to the questions I know he'd ask. Turning to Garcia I say, "I've already had some contacts from Interpol try to trace the IP address, with no luck, but if you're willing to give them a shot… Well, no one knows this kind of thing like you do."

"You got that right, sugar." Penelope agreed with a toothy smile.

"Emily, had you been working on any cases when this happened? Received any threats?" Reid asked cautiously.

"No, that week was mainly for paperwork that needed to be completed on a case I had closed out. I have no idea who it could be-I mean, of course I do but…"

"But in our line of work the list of people trying to kill us is sometimes longer than the list of people not trying to. Comes with the territory." Morgan noted. I nodded in agreement.

That was the hardest part of the job. Saving people, serving justice, doing good, all of those are what make the job worth it, all were rewarding but there are two sides to every coin, as the saying goes. And, if we're completely honest, most days aren't full of heroics. Not all cases get wrapped up in pretty bows. Not all bad guys get collared and not all victims were saved. Justice doesn't always get served. Mostly, the job was exhausting. Taxing. Emotionally draining. Seeing the worst humanity has to offer is not the best way to keep the glass half full. Cynicism and rage and fear and bitterness and jadedness are the name of the game some days.

Which is not to say that I don't love my job. I do. And so do most people in our line of work. But just because we love the job doesn't make what we think or do or see easy.

Nothing we think or do or say is easy.

 **A/N: look at you guys, so lucky. All these updates! Don't worry, we're going to get into the thick of it soon, you'll see. The hammer will drop soon! Read and review, loves, that's how you get more. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

I hadn't even realized that I had fallen asleep on my desk until I woke to a light touch on my shoulder. If Reid hadn't predicted my knee-jerk reaction to being suddenly awakened, he would have taken a swing to the throat. He stood back, hands up in a gesture of goodwill.

"Sorry, Reid." I sighed, swiping at my eyes once with the back of my hand.

"Don't be. Garcia has a lead." He said with no pretense.

"What? How?"

"Let's find out." Said Rossi from behind me. He strode past his hand pressing ever so briefly against my shoulder, made a beeline for Garcia's tech closet of an office. Morgan, alert as always followed behind with Reid and I. Hotch was already in the room. JJ was nowhere to be found.

"Garcia how-" I began as we crammed ourselves into her Penelope's small, eclectic work space.

"This guy is good, but no one beats the queen of hearts at her own game." Garcia triumphed, spinning her chair to face us.

"What did you find?" I demanded. My voice was harsh and loud. I could tell the others were uneasy at my response, but I couldn't have cared less. Here, after two long years, I could finally see the light at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel. I could hardly breathe from relief, and the room took on an almost other-worldly appearance.

"A traceable IP address. Well sort of. Your guys were right, he was bouncing the signals but after I combed through those videos-she's adorable by the way, has your eyes and your-"

"Garcia." Hotch reprimanded.

"Right-after I scrubbed those videos I found one that was different. It was a lower quality video-lower resolution. I barely picked up on it. But it was there, which meant he used a lower quality camera to take the video. His normal camera must have been on the fritz because he used his _phone_ to take the video."

"And?" Morgan asked.

"And it was geotagged. The asshole forgot to disable his GPS. He's in the city."

I barely registered Hotch ordering Morgan and Reid to get two company cars and wait for the rest of the team in the garage, asking Rossi in find and inform JJ of the developments and his uncharacteristically gentle tug on my arm, leading me out of Garcia's office and into a quiet, empty hall. She had been in the city the whole time. My daughter had been minutes, blocks away from me for two years. Right under my nose. How could I have been that I couldn't even find my own daughter in my own damned back yard?

I shook myself forcefully from myself pity. Now was not the time to wallow. Now, more than ever was the time to clear my head and focus on getting Amy back.

Hotch was watching me closely when I came out of my reverie. Silently, patiently waiting. His eyes searched mine and that was when it sunk in. "No." I said.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say." He protested, shifting his weight and crossing his arms across his chest, trying to come off as more authoritative. But the look of pity and concern on his face kept him from looking too intimidating.

"You're going to tell me to stay behind, let you guys check it out. You're going to tell me that I'm emotionally compromised and won't be working this case."

Hotch said nothing, which an answer in and of itself.

"I am _working_ this case." I ground through gritted teeth. "I'm not a child, you don't have to protect me."

"It's not you I'm protecting, Emily." I made to move past him, toward the elevators but he blocked my path. "I'm serious, Prentiss. You're staying here."

"Like hell." I growled.

"I'm doing this for the safety of the team." Hotch stated, as if I gave a crap about the team's safety in that moment. "And for her safety. For Amy." I finally met his gaze at this, my blaze against his stern disapproval. "Nothing good can come from bringing an emotionally compromised agent into a potentially dangerous situation in which a hostage is involved. Especially when that emotionally compromised agent is the mother of the hostage. That's asking for trouble. And it's against FBI protocol and policy. I'm sorry, Prentiss. You have to stay here." I could tell that he truly regretted having to say what he did, but that did little to settle the rage licking flames through my insides.

"Screw safety. Screw protocol. Since when have we ever followed protocol?" I seethed, pacing just to release some of the pent up aggression.

"Since one of our own abducted and tortured, Prentiss." He reminded gravely. It was true that ever since Spencer had breached protocol and decided to split up from JJ on Hinkle's property that Hotch had been a stickler for doing things by the book.

"This isn't some normal case, Hotch. This is bigger. This is Amy."

"Which is exactly why we need to do this the best way we can. The safest way we can." And with that, Hotch strode toward the elevators, leaving me to my anger and my despair.

 **A/N: sorry this chapter is so short. I'm swamped at school and just realized how long it had been since I updated. Just a short tidbit, don't worry more is on its way!**


	6. Chapter 6

My inactivity due to emotional turmoil was short lived, however. The minute the elevator doors slid closed, I sprinted back towards Garcia.

"Give me the address." I said by way of greeting upon reentering what Garcia dubbed her 'inner sanctum'.

"Uh, yeah, about that, Sweetie. I'd love to but Hotch-"

"Doesn't get a say. He's not her father. I'm her mother. If his kid was in danger you better believe he'd be the first one through that door and nobody on this team would step in his way to stop him on some technical B.S. Give me the address, Garcia."

With a guilty but understanding look on her face, Garcia scribbled the address neon blue Post-It note shaped like a flower.

I didn't even spare a thought to all the decent people I almost sent careening into ditches and cement dividers as I wove madly through traffic. The location was clear on the other side of town. A sketchy neighborhood on the best of days and one which I would normally have no reason to frequent. In fact, except on a single case, I had never actually been. Which the perp probably knew and used to his advantage when picking a location.

When I screeched up to the building I knew something was wrong. Too many police cars. Lights and sirens in full brilliance. Police tape and tons of Unis canvassing. Not good, not good. I could feel panic rising up from my stomach like vomit.

Without even bothering to yank the keys from the ignition I ran up the cement steps of the worn down, three story, brownstone type flat. I could hear the voices of my team up on the second floor. Skipping steps where I was able, I leapt to the second floor landing in seconds, all thoughts of subtlety and subordinance left back at Quantico in Garcia's office.

Rossi was the first to notice me. "Prentiss. You shouldn't be here." He peered over the banner of the staircase down to a few of the responding police officers who were standing below. "Escort her back down-" Rossi began, but had no time to finish as I burst into the room that his body language suggested he didn't want me entering.

The room was pink. Pink wallpaper, a small white four poster bed with pink sheets and comforter, white furniture covered with toys and stuffed animals. Her name was painted in his handwriting on her perfectly white door. Everything was perfect.

Everything but the far wall. The far wall, which at one point had been party to the same neat, pink wallpaper as the rest of the room was now marred with crimson red lettering dripping down the walls.

 _You should have listened. She might be safe if you had._

All of the sudden the floor wasn't beneath me. The whole world was topsy turvy and the walls had suddenly taken the place of the ceiling and floor. Morgan's strong arms caught me just before I hit the floor.

"Damn it, how did she even know where to find us?" I heard Hotch say from a far way off. "Morgan, Reid, get her out of here. Take care of her. JJ, Rossi and I will finish up here. Get her the hell out of here."

I'm not sure what happened right after that. All I could hear was blood rushing through my body, my heart pounding. I can't remember seeing anything or feeling anything (besides overwhelming numbness). My best guess is that Morgan carried me down the stairs and out of the house to the Suburban that I drove.

When I came to my senses my hands began to shake and I gasped in deep breathes. I was buckled into the back seat, on the drivers side. Reid was buckled into the middle seat right next to me, a wet washcloth in his hand and a bottle of water resting on the seat next to him. I tried to speak through my sobs but was incoherent. Reid seemed to know what I needed though, because he spoke in a soft voice, his hands clasping at my shoulders, my face, my hands, which, had I been rational, I might have thought was odd, since Spencer has never been much for physical contact.

"Emily. Listen. It wasn't blood on the walls. It wasn't. There was no evidence of a struggle, no evidence that Amy was ever there. None of those rooms match what we see on those videos he sent. It was a set up. She's most likely fine. He probably knows we're on the case now but…"

"But that just means we've got him on the defensive, Prentiss. We're going to get her back." Morgan finished for his friend.

Reid nodded encouragingly, handing me the bottle water in a way that suggested he wasn't going to negotiate on the subject of my finishing the whole damn thing. I didn't have the energy to argue so I simply took it from his thin fingered hands and downed it in a couple of gulps, staring dully out the window onto the crowded mid day traffic. I knew subconsciously we were headed back to Quantico but I couldn't find it in myself to care much.

I just wanted Amy back. Just wanted my little girl back in my arms, in my apartment, in my life. Was that too much to ask? I'd done so much, devoted so much of my life to protecting people, bringing justice to people. Didn't that count for anything?

 **A/N: Tell me what you think!**

 **Edit: thanks to Cici for reminding me they're in Quantico Virginia not D.C. Mixing my fandoms there (thanks, Bones.) How could I forget?!**


	7. Chapter 7

Garcia was waiting anxiously at my desk when Reid and Morgan, on either side of me, escorted me up, both with hands at my back or waist in a supportive but unobtrusive manner. Her eyes sparkled with worry and her heel tapped endlessly against the floor.

Even in my pit of self pity I could tell she was going to have a fit if I didn't say something. "I'm fine, Penelope. Mainly just tired of people asking me if I'm okay." It didn't come out as reassuring as I meant it, as my voice was weak and wavering.

"Of course you aren't okay, honey. What's happening to you is terrifying and cruel. But it's going to be over real soon." Unlike mine, Garcia's voice carried great confidence and weight.

"You have something else?" Morgan asked, surprised.

"Not me. Hotch and the others. They found the landlord of the building you were just at. They're bringing him in for questioning. It's not likely he's involved but he said he could give a description of the guy he was lending the apartment to. Rossi is hopeful this will lead somewhere." She answered as Reid gently forced my body into a desk chair, keeping me seated with his hands on my shoulders.

"That's great news. They're on their way now?" Reid questioned.

"Should be here in two shakes of a lambs tail."

With that Reid and Morgan went to set up the interrogation room and contact the sketch artist and Garcia made herself comfortable, planting her behind on the edge of Morgan's desk and glancing from me to the elevator bank and back every few seconds.

It wasn't long before the team arrived with a man I had reasonable suspicion to believe was the unsub's landlord. He was short but muscled, with impeccable black hair. The man was wearing nice jeans and a casual but expensive looking cardigan. This guy certainly didn't look like he was hurting for cash, which reduced the likelihood that he accepted bribes to keep quiet, but there was no guarantee.

I made to follow Hotch and Rossi, as they escorted the man to interview room 1 but JJ stopped me with a hand on my arm and a stern look in her eye. She no longer looked angry. Just resigned and determined.

"I'm not saying this to piss you off but if you think you're entering that interrogation room, you've got another thing coming." She warned quietly.

"Mind your own business, JJ. You've already made your feelings about this whole thing clear from the get go. I read you, loud and clear. If we're being completely honest, you don't have a clue what I'm going through so I'll thank you to leave me be." I knew it was adding insult to injury, but the stress of the past few days-of the past two years- which I had been keeping at bay and hiding away were screaming to be let out. JJ just so happened to be their clearest target.

I could tell it was taking everything she had not to rip me a new one. JJ let out a frustrated snort and barely contained a massive eye roll. She was tempering herself which was more than she had bothered to do the last few days, so that was something.

"Look, Emily, you're right. I don't understand. I don't understand how you could work with us for two years, build a trust and respect with us for so long and not bother to tell us something as significant as a kidnapped daughter. I don't understand how you could see every member of this team suffer some loss, some struggle and watch the rest of the team rally around them. Every single person on this team has gone through something. And every single time, the rest of us have been there to back them up, help them out. I don't understand how you couldn't trust us to do the same damn thing for you."

"It's not about trust, JJ." Honestly, she had no idea what she was talking about. She didn't. So why did some part of my brain register what she said as a legitimate call out. Why did some part of me understand why she was so pissed? Why did that small part of my brain say _If your roles were reversed, you'd feel the exact same._

"Then what is it about, Prentiss?"

"I… I don't know. I don't have the answers you're looking for that are going to justify all my actions to you. And honestly, I don't have to. I don't have the time or the patience or the will power. All I can tell you is that I was worried for the life of my kid. I was doing what I thought I could-the only thing I thought I could-to save the most important person in my life. My daughter. I was just doing what I thought I had to to protect my daughter."

JJ's blue eyes searched mine for a long time. Her face betrayed none of what she was thinking so I stood there and stared back. I'm not sure how long we stood there but it felt like forever. Eventually, she nodded and stretched out, dragging me to her in a bone crushing hug.

"I'm sorry. Sorry this happened to you and sorry I reacted the way I did." She whispered. All of a sudden, a tension I didn't know I was feeling relaxed. It was like I was ten pounds lighter and I could do was hug back as waves of relief washed over me. I still had the weight of a 1000 worries on my shoulders but one less still felt incredibly lighter.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I should have."

"I'm just glad we're on the case now." She smiled, pulling away. Glancing at her watch and then toward the interview room she added, "They've probably got a rough sketch by now. Let's go see what kind of progress they made."

When we entered the observation room, Reid and Morgan were already there, listening to the landlord-a man named Rick Davies- instruct the artist.

"Landlord has been very cooperative. Kept proper documentation on all of his tenants and is handing it over as we speak. Unfortunately, the copy of the unsub's photo ID is missing from the records he took, and from what Garcia can tell, he was using an alias." Morgan provided as we shut the door.

"What's the name?" I asked, clutching at any scrap of information I could get my hands on.

"Joe Brown," Reid replied with a scornful tone.

"That's only slightly more helpful that John Smith," JJ scoffed.

"I know. Davies and the sketch artist are almost finished though. Hopefully that will turn up some new leads." Just as Morgan finished saying this, Rossi and Hotch entered, the latter holding the sketch he had just collected.

"I'll have Garcia scan this and run it through our databases, see if we can't figure out who this SOB really is." Rossi muttered with dark conviction evident in his voice. He handed it over to JJ who tilted it my way so I could get a look.

The man on the page looking back at me was the stuff of nightmares. The sketch portrayed the kind of threatening manner he exuded in real life. My stomach did a back flip and I fought to keep the fear out of my voice as I stated, "Don't bother running Facial Recognition. I know who this is and where to find him."


	8. Chapter 8

"Emily, you know the unsub?" Reid's voice seemed to have gone up an octave.

"Yeah, I investigated him when I worked at Interpol." Nothing about this was making since. "But this guy, he can't be the unsub, this has to be some sort of trick. It doesn't make since."

"Why not, Prentiss? What'd you investigate him for?" Morgan asked, eager to get a jump on a lead.

"It was a smuggling ring. Pirated DVD's. Pretty low level stuff. And he didn't have any priors so once we had shipped him back to the States for trial, he only got a few years. It was a clean arrest, he was cooperative. It was a clean case."

"Emily, you're sure that's all there was to this guy? You can't think of any reason he'd have to do this?"

I was baffled. "Honestly, nothing about the guy stood out. If I didn't have years of training, an above average memory and a heightened sense of paranoia, I probably wouldn't have recognized the guy," I told them truthfully.

"Well, until we get proof to the contrary, this guy is our main suspect." Hotch asserted firmly as he strode back towards Garcia's office. "Do you have a name on the guy I could give to Garcia?"

"All my old case files are on my desk. I'll go look through them and get back to you," I said pragmatically, jogging over to my desk and sorting through the files I may or may not have illegally retained. It was easy enough to find the file. "Name is Sean Lawson. Born in Indianapolis, moved to New York to be a stockbroker, only to end up how I found him- a low level offender."

Hotch took the file I offered, flipped through the papers it held. "He plead guilty and waived his right to plea the fifth," Hotch muttered, brow lowering over sharp eyes in confusion.

"By all accounts, this guy was an easy conviction," I affirmed.

"Says here that his last known address since his release is right here in Virginia. Fair Fax."

"Let's go check this guy out," JJ said from behind me.

"Not before you hear what our Forensics team just found," Garcia called, moving as fast as her canary, stiletto pumps and and tight, electric blue skirt would allow. "This guy must be loosing his touch, which if you ask me, is a good thing because we'll finally be able to nail the SOB-I mean not literally nail him, but, you know, metaphorically, because he kidnapped Emily's precious daughter and-"

"Garcia," Hotch said warningly.

"Right. We found a partial print in the painted words that the unsub left on the wall- it was a match to this guy, Sean Lawson, that you have a sketch of. They haven't completed the rest of their findings, but they're not far off."

I couldn't put my finger on it but the minute the words left her mouth, something felt off. Something about this situation was odd but I had no reason I could voice out loud nor even explain to myself. I decided to stay quiet.

"Great, that just gives us stronger probable cause for a warrant. Reid, go request a No-knock from a judge and meet us down in the parking garage in 10 minutes. JJ, go call the local police officers in Fair Fax and request back up. Make sure they don't make any moves until we're on location. The rest of you, gear up. We leave in 15." Hotch barked orders right and left, and the team hurried to oblige.

I followed suit, reaching into my desk to grab my gun and holster it, then making my way to the closet we kept our vests and other field equipment in. Hotch stopped me with my hand on the knob. "Emily, what I said earlier-about you not getting involved-I meant it. You can't be allowed to come on a warrant raid to the house of the suspect probably involved in your daughter's kidnapping. I can't allow it. You're to remain here."

"Hotch-" I began. He was quick to shut me down.

"Not another word Emily. I will have someone detain you if necessary. We'll call you when we have an update." WIth that, he and the rest of the team swept out of the bullpen, on their way to do a job that was mine from the start-protecting my daughter.

Furious, nervous and antsy as hell, I bit my lip and spent the next ten minutes oscillating between pacing and chewing the caps off all my pens. Thankfully, Garcia entered, apparently with more news. "CSU just called. They were able to get epithelial cells from the room that match both the sample you provided of Amy and the DNA records we have of Lawson. He's definitely our guy."

Alarm bells were blaring full force in my head. Something was definitely off.

"Garcia, none of this makes any sense."

"What do you mean? We have a solid trail leading straight toward this asshole," she said, clearly ecstatic and confused as to why I wasn't.

"Exactly. For nearly two years this guy has been so thorough that the best guys in the trade," I got a hurt, slightly betrayed look from Garcia at that but ignored it and continued on, "found nothing. Now all the sudden this guy gets sloppy, leaves witnesses and physical evidence just lying around for us to find? Plus, what is the guy's motive?"

"You mean besides that you threw him in federal prison? Look, maybe he heard the _real_ best of the best was on the case and got spooked. Maybe he got bored and wanted more excitement maybe-"

"Maybe he set a trap and now the whole team is unwittingly headed straight for it," I cut it, dashing once more for my gun and vest. "I've got to get the hell to Fair Fax."

 **A/N: Typically officers/agents are required to knock before entering if they have a search warrant but some circumstances allow them no knock warrants-they have to ask special permission. They're not as common as TV would have you believe though. :) AAANYWAY sorry for the long time in between posts. Don't forget to tell me what you think!**


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